


Government Service

by GoldenUsagi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea is awesome, Gen, How Anthea met Mycroft, Mycroft IS the British Government
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenUsagi/pseuds/GoldenUsagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m in need of a personal assistant.”</p><p>She laughed.  Professionalism be damned—she had worked too hard for a distinguished career to be a glorified PA.  “I’m overqualified.  Sir.”</p><p>“Yes.”  He didn’t seem affronted, just amused.  “And that is precisely why I want you to be working for me.  You have such a unique collection of skills; it would be a shame to let half of them go to waste.”</p><p>“Who are you?” she asked again.</p><p>“A minor civil servant,” Mycroft Holmes replied smoothly, in a voice that said he was anything but.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Government Service

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by entangled now and verdant_fire.

It was a surprise when she was summoned to the Director’s office that morning. Nothing she had been working on warranted his attention, and she couldn’t imagine any other reason he would need to see her. She’d only been in his office a total of twice, both times for routine performance reviews.

After she was sent in, she shut the door behind her and took a seat in front of his desk.

He closed the folder he’d been looking at, adjusting his glasses. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve had a job offer.”

So that’s why she was here. “I have in a way, sir. It never got that far; it was merely a request for an interview.” The message had been odd and out of the blue, and if it hadn’t come through their secure server, she would have been suspicious of it. “But as I don’t have any wish to transfer, I declined.”

“I just received a call,” he continued. “Mycroft Holmes wants to meet with you.”

She frowned. “I don’t recognise the name. What branch is he with?”

“He’s not in a branch, per se.”

“Oh. I’ve never wanted to work in the private sector.”

The Director folded his hands on the desk, leaning forward slightly. “He oversees our sector. I would listen to anything he has to say very carefully.”

“Sir?”

He stood, a clear signal that the meeting was over. “He’s in a car out front and has requested your presence at once.”

“Is that usual?”

He let out a huff of laughter. “Not at all,” he muttered. “Best not to keep him waiting.”

Bemused, but curious, she left his office and made her way down to the lobby. By the time she arrived, seemingly unrelated events of the past week had clicked into place in her mind, suddenly making much more sense.

The car that was waiting was sleek and black. As she approached, the driver got out to open the door.

There was a man in an expensive suit seated in the back of the car. The interior was spacious, but it was still only a backseat, and she angled herself to face him as best she could when she got in.

He gave her a benign smile, but didn’t immediately speak.

She recognised the tactic for what it was, but instead of asking precisely what she was doing here, she opened with, “You’ve been having me followed. Badly, I might add.”

An eyebrow raised.

“Unless the point was to make me realise I was being followed. If it wasn’t, some of your people are incompetent.”

“They aren’t, actually,” he said, a smirk playing about one corner of his mouth. “They were merely conducting a most thorough background check prior to the interview request. Few people would have noticed them.” He paused. “And that is precisely why I want you to be working for me.”

“I’m happy with my current position.”

“Naturally. But you haven’t heard the particulars.”

“Who are you?”

“Mycroft Holmes. I’m in need of a personal assistant.”

She laughed. Professionalism be damned—she had worked too hard for a distinguished career to be a glorified PA. “I’m overqualified. Sir.”

“Yes.” He didn’t seem affronted, just amused. “You served for four years in the Royal Air Force before being hand-selected to participate in more covert operations. You were a highly skilled field operative, active until two years ago when you expressed a desire to work on the other end of things and became an analyst, which you also excelled at. And you’re already dissatisfied with it.”

“I’m happy with my position,” she repeated, for lack of anything else to say. Being an analyst wasn’t as interesting as she’d imagined, but it had the potential to lead to more specialised work.

“Despite your impressive service record, your changes of vocation have been something of a hindrance to you. You’ve excelled in every area, yet never committed enough to any of them to ascend in rank.”

“Which is why I intend to remain where I am. Sir, I have a knack for intelligence, and I believe I’d do well in the upper levels.”

“You intend to work your way up.”

“As I said.” 

“Mm. If you dedicate yourself, I see no reason why you couldn’t be running the division in fifteen years.” He brought his fingers together. “At which point you would be reporting to me, with not half the clearance I’m prepared to give you now.”

The question that sprang to her lips was impertinent, but she found herself asking it anyway. “And what’s your security clearance?”

“I _am_ security clearance.” He said it easily, almost offhandedly. Like the words were nothing more than a simple report on the state of things.

“Who are you?” she asked again. Apparently, it bore repeating. 

“A minor civil servant,” Mycroft Holmes replied smoothly, in a voice that said he was anything but. “You have such a unique collection of skills; it would be a shame to let half of them go to waste. You have the mind of an analyst and the instincts of a soldier.”

She smiled in disbelief. “You need a soldier?”

“Not as a rule, but one can never be too prepared. As a government official, I do sometimes, shall we say, encounter unexpected events. Naturally, your first duties would be to manage my schedule and provide support on various projects. You would handle sensitive data, interpret intelligence, organise the movements of clandestine operations, and arrange remote assistance for anyone in the field fortunate enough to be given your direct line. But you would be armed at all times.”

It was easy to read between the lines. He didn’t particularly need a bodyguard, but he also saw no reason not to hire someone with military training as long as he was at it.

“You would spend a significant portion of the day with me, as almost all of your tasks would be done on a mobile device. The ability to multi-task and work from any location at almost any hour of the day is a requirement. Your compensation will be more than generous, and your work highly essential and constantly varied. But you understand, we’re not overly concerned with job titles. You’ll have no rank before your name, and you’ll never be an executive or director no matter how long you stay.” He gave a practiced smile. “After all, I’m only a minor civil servant myself.”

She was surprised at how calm she felt about the career prospects that were being presented to her. Her voice was matter-of-fact as she said, “I didn’t enter the intelligence field for commendations.”

He nodded, as if he already knew as much. “I find having power to be vastly preferable to merely having the appearance of it. I’m sure you’ll agree.” He raised an eyebrow, then gave her a genuine smile, though it was no less sharp. “So what do you say?”

His face told her that he had no doubts regarding her answer. It was just as well; she had no doubts regarding her answer, either.

“Consider the position filled, sir.” She folded her hands in her lap, squarely meeting his gaze. “On two conditions. I don’t make your coffee; I don’t pick up your dry cleaning.”

He actually laughed. A small laugh, but a genuine one. “I wouldn’t dream of wasting your talents on something so menial. I look forward to a most productive relationship. Your new position will begin presently.”

“Surely I need to give notice?”

He pulled his phone out of his jacket, tapping on the screen several times. “No need. They’ll be informed by the time you collect your things. Your projects, such as they were, will easily be finished by someone eager for a promotion, and your exit interview has been waived.” From his other pocket, he produced a new mobile. “It’s already connected to our basic systems,” he said, presenting it to her. “The more sensitive security protocols will be activated later today. Now, in addition to gathering your personal effects, there’s one more thing I need you to collect inside.”

“What’s that?”

“Your Assistant Director.” The expression on his face was falsely cheerful. “He may be out of a job soon, if he’s been doing what I suspect he has. We need to have a small chat. I should mention that one of your responsibilities will be escort duty to persons of interest.”

She blinked, then nodded. Not that she wasn’t up to jumping in headfirst, but she’d hardly expected her first assignment within minutes of accepting the job. “What do I need to do?”

“Very little. He’ll be more than ready to go with you by the time you set foot in his office. Simply lead him out to the waiting car. I’ll keep you informed by text.” Something on his phone beeped. He looked down. “Excuse me, I really must take this.”

And that, apparently, was it. A new job, an assignment, and a dismissal, all in the space of five minutes.

She got out of the car and went back into the building. At her desk, she sent a quick general email to anyone she’d been working with, notifying them of an abrupt change of position without being specific. She didn’t need a box for any of her personal items, as employees were not encouraged to decorate their workspace, and anything in her desk that didn’t belong to the company easily fit into her purse.

Her new mobile chimed, and she looked at it to see a text from a number that was already programmed in as _MH_.

Attached was a selection of emails that had been sent by the Assistant Director. Her brows raised as she skimmed the files. He’d certainly been up to something, leaking small pieces of information to some unnamed party.

The phone chimed with another text.

_When you collect him, act as though you have no idea who he is. It will thoroughly unnerve him. MH_

Her lips quirked as she read the instructions. She fired off a text as she walked towards the lifts.

_I’ve worked under him for sixteen months._

_Pretend he simply escaped your notice. MH_

She smiled, but sensed there was an actual reason behind the directions. _Why?_

The next text came when she was outside the office of the secretary to the Assistant Director.

_It’s advantageous to remove any construct of a comfort zone. As a general rule, anyone you deal with from outside our immediate office must be able to ascertain absolutely nothing from you. While collecting people in particular, do not engage in even the most mundane pleasantries. MH_

_Understood._

She paused outside the office, collecting herself and putting on her no-nonsense face.

But that didn’t feel quite right. Part of the reason she had left field work was because she hadn’t wanted to be just another faceless agent, all business and no personality. Replaying the texts from Mr. Holmes in her mind, she took a different approach and summoned a blank, yet disinterested expression. Then she opened the door and breezed past the desk, not giving the secretary a word. She stopped in the doorframe of the inner office, and the Assistant Director looked up.

“You’re to come with me,” she said.

He frowned, trying to place her. “You—work with Team B, yes?”

“I’m with Mr. Holmes now,” she said, glancing down at her phone. “He’s expecting you, I believe. The car’s waiting.”

He gaped at her.

She fixed him with an inscrutable look, like she was politely confused by the whole affair. “Should I tell him you’re not coming?”

“No! No,” he said, jumping to his feet and hurriedly throwing on his jacket. He made several rapid ‘after you’ gestures, and then anxiously followed her as she walked back to the lifts.

The ride down was awkward, but only for him, she realised. She wasn’t bothered at all, simply because she didn’t let herself be.

After a moment of obvious staring, he said, “What was your name?” He never had bothered to learn the name of anyone subordinate.

She spared him a glance. “Don’t you remember?” 

“No.”

“Oh.” She turned to stare straight ahead at the lift doors again.

She let herself smile on the side of her mouth that he couldn’t see. She’d never particularly cared for her name. Now that it didn’t matter, perhaps it was time to find another one.


End file.
